Violins, Chocolates, Asteroids 
 

 

 

Uncountable are the afternoons I spent roaming the forests around my grandma and grandpa's rural home. Narrow tracts meant I would never get lost, squeezed as they were between the geometric chunks of corn or soybean fields in various states of growth depending on the month. The forested remnants followed creek beds through the Midwestern landscape, and while not endless, they extended far enough to scare away thoughts of complete independence. 

Forests have existed for 400 million years, and I've thought plenty about the critical roles of these groups of trees as I've spent more days than not running through Rock Creek Park. We're on stay-at-home orders in DC as of today.

Normal, it seems, has fled farther than I dared on my family's land. Normal has escaped beyond our horizon, and we find ourselves unmoored in a murky forest filled with nightmares. 

Close your eyes and breathe. 

"Nature is one of the things not denied to us right now. We should savor it."

Your local copse or thicket has no mere "violin trapped inside" but an entire orchestra. And not just the music but the musicians. Forests are a woody social network and then some, though I wouldn't quite favor active consciousness. I do like that article's higher-level argument, though – humans need to recalibrate our relationship with the natural world away from a transactional mindset where we value forests at little more than a chocolate bar. 

The current viral invader should remind us of our inability to master any part of the natural world. 

So take a walk in the woods, or read Walden if you can't venture outdoors. Read some poetry too (National Poetry Month starts tomorrow).

"Remember all is in motion, is growing, is you."
 

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